


Jaws of Defeat

by Cinlat



Series: Tumblr Prompts & Drabbles [12]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: From angst to humor, I have no regrets, Tumblr Prompt, but these things have a life of their own, not what I had in mind when I started writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 22:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15034568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat
Summary: Fynta is three men down in a battle for galactic survival against an unknown enemy. Shields are low, and everything lies on the line.





	Jaws of Defeat

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the Tumblr Prompt "Don't die on me--Please." I took some creative liberties with it, and laughed entirely too much at my own characters.  
> Word Count: 706

Fynta’s pod groaned under the pressure of another hit. A warning flashed in the top, left-hand side of her screen that her shields were down to thirty percent. The dots cluttering Fynta’s radar scattered like a swarm of insects while she tried to stay alive. Their objective was in sight, all she needed was a clear shot.

“Uh, boss.” Cormac’s voice echoed through the cramped cockpit, and Fynta glanced to her right to find his beacon on the nav-screen. “I’ve got four on my tail, and I can’t shake them.”

Fynta jerked the steering column in her friend’s direction, only to be cut off by half a dozen bogies. She snarled and veered off course, pulling them in her wake. “You’re going to have to manage, big guy. I’ve got my own issues.”

Cormac cursed. “I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

Fynta glanced at the radar to find that her own situation unchanged. “Don’t you die on me, soldier!” Only silence met Fynta’s command, and she swore a string oaths that would have made her father proud. She’d already lost Aric and Vik, Cormac had been her last man standing.

Checking her fighter’s ammo supply, Fynta set the blasters to automatic and charged straight through the line of drones protecting the Mothership. Her shields dropped faster than Elara in a Mandalorian drinking game. Fynta knew that she’d have to fire the ion torpedoes now, or risk blowing the entire mission.

The drone directly before her exploded in a soundless fireball, and Fynta fired her entire payload. “Go on.” She willed the four blips on her screen to break through the main shielding.

“Shield at five percent,” the onboard AI offered. Fynta ignored it, fixated on the final white dot that inched closer to her target.

“Please.” It was going to make it, Fynta could feel it.

Fynta’s pod went dark and dropped so fast that her stomach rolled. She stared at the blackness, unable to accept such a crushing defeat. The door hissed, and light flooded the small compartment, followed by Cormac’s face. “Better luck next time.”

Curling her lip, and Fynta intentionally ignored the large, flashing GAME OVER sign on the screen as she clambered back into the overwhelming noise of the arcade. “Damn it,” she cursed again. “We were so close.”

Vik and Jorgan leaned against a couple of racing machines, both with arms crossed, looking far too similar for comfort. Two runts scampered between Fynta and Cormac to climb into the vacated domes to try their luck.

“Look on the bright side,” Cormac began as they exited into the shopping complex. “We’ve got three more days of leave. There’s always tomorrow.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Vik spat. “There’s a piece of ass out there with my name stamped on it. Later, losers.”

Fynta stuck her tongue out at the retreating Weequay before cupping her hands. “Be nice, Vik.” She paused for effect. “And tip her well!” Her efforts were rewarded when Vik flashed a rude hand signal over his shoulder. Fynta felt much better.

“As much as I hate to leave you to pout alone, boss. I promised Elara that I wouldn’t play games all day.” Cormac offered a sympathetic smile and a slap on Fynta’s back that stumbled her forward. “You two stay out of trouble.”

Fynta kicked at Cormac before starting in the opposite direction with Jorgan. They walked in silence while she fumed over the stolen victory. “Would shooting something make you feel better?” The Cathar asked with an undeniable twitch of lips.

“Twenty-seven fierfeking points, Aric.” Fynta threw her hands up. “That’s all that stood between me and the high score.” Jorgan’s smile grew, but not enough to show teeth, he rarely did that in public. “Yes,” Fynta finally admitted. “Shooting something sounds great.”

Jorgan’s low chuckle send a chill up Fynta’s spine, and she slid a lustful gaze his way. “Maybe you can help me unwind afterward?”

They had to be careful this close to base. No doubt their fraternization would be noticed. Aric’s response was a heated look that promised a full night and late morning. When he spoke, it was in a husky tone no louder than a whisper. “You’ve got a deal.”


End file.
